A Little Party Never Killed Nobody
by MagicInHerMadness
Summary: 1930. When southern belle Olivia Pope meets the infamous bootlegger Fitz Grant, sparks fly immediately. Can love last in the Jazz Age?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is already posted in my one shots collection but I've decided to make it a story so I'm posting it on its own.**

New York, 1930

Harrison smirked as he watched Olivia reapply her red lipstick for the third time that evening. He sat in the living room of his apartment, peering into Olivia's bedroom. They were supposed to be going to an underground club, but Olivia couldn't decide what to wear. She stood before the mirror in an ivory slip, pouting at her reflection.

"Liv, put on some clothes so we can go." Harrison pulled out his flask and took a drink.

Olivia turned to smirk at him. "I don't have anything to wear. I've worn all my party clothes, which is why I said we oughta quit partying every night."

"Liv, this ain't Georgia. When I invited you up here for the summer, I told you what we'd be doing this whole time." Harrison had invited Olivia, his favorite cousin, to live with him in Harlem for the summer after she graduated high school as she and her mother, Maya, were disagreeing about her future plans to the point that they were barely speaking.

"I know. I just never imagined we'd be partying so much. I've never danced so much in my whole life." She brushed her professionally waved hair, a gift from one of Harrison's girlfriends, then went back to the closet for the fifth time.

"Wear that red dress you just bought. The shiny one."

Olivia pulled out the sequined mini dress and held it up. "Mama would die twice if she knew I was wearing something so short."

Harrison smirked. "Well wear one of those "Easter in Augusta" dresses she sent you."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'd sooner die."

She went behind her red dressing partition and slipped the dress on. "Are we going into Manhattan, or Atlantic City?"

"This party's in Manhattan. Supposedly run by some gangsters who bring the booze in all the way from Nebraska."

"Nebraska?"

"Yeah. White Lightning is made from corn."

"I don't like that stuff. It burns. I prefer champagne."

"Well we aren't gonna get anything to drink if you don't hurry up in there."

Olivia finally emerged from her bedroom in the red dress, sheer thigh highs with black seams up the back, and black t-strap pumps. A strand of pearls hung around her neck, and a little black handbag dangled from her shoulder. "Let's go."

They left Harrison's apartment building and took a cab into Manhattan. Olivia stared out the window at the lights. She had been in New York for nearly two months but the city's night skyline never ceased to amaze her. Augusta was beautiful in its rural way, but it had nothing on Manhattan at midnight.

"You know, Russell has been bending my ear every chance he gets asking about you," Harrison said as they crossed the bridge.

"Hmm." Olivia didn't care for Russell, but he was an up and coming jazz pianist, and she wasn't sure if she would need his connections for the rest of the summer's activities. There was the Fourth of July and Memorial Day to think of, and countless parties that he could get her into. Still, those countless parties would have to be attended as his date, and that fact alone made staying home a much more appealing option.

"He's probably gonna be here tonight."

"Mmm." Olivia's crimson lips became a thin line as she mulled over the prospect of spending the evening avoiding Russell. He was a nice enough young man, but he needed the kind of constant validation and attention for which Olivia simply hadn't the patience.

Harrison smirked. "I take it I should tell him you've set your sights on someone else."

"Anyone else," Olivia replied as the cabbie opened her door. She smiled politely at the tall thin man. "Thank you."

He nodded then climbed back into the driver's seat. Harrison paid him then turned to Olivia on the sidewalk. The building in front of which they stood looked very much like the rest of the houses on the street. Olivia wondered how a speakeasy could exist in such a nice, quiet neighborhood. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

Harrison nodded. "You'd be surprised where these places pop up."

They descended the stairs beside the brownstone and Harrison knocked on what Olivia guessed was the basement door. A large man dressed in a black suit opened the door and grinned. "Hey jack, I thought they locked you up after the last party!"

"I slipped away just in time," Harrison replied as they stepped inside.

"Is this your new girl?" the man asked.

"I'm his cousin, Olivia." Olivia stepped forward and shook his hand.

"Liv's visiting for the summer all the way from Charleston."

The grinning man ran a hand over his shining hair. "Well welcome to New York, baby."

The man went back to the door and Olivia looked around at the murmuring crowd with a smile. "What kind of party is this? No one's dancing."

Harrison almost didn't hear her, his eyes on a group of girls sneaking glances at him as they refilled their glasses. "Well why don't you go get it started?"

He was surprised when she replied, "Alright I will."

Olivia strode to the jazz band playing a lazy song and spoke to the sunglasses-wearing bass player. Harrison smirked as the man grinned at whatever Olivia was murmuring in his ear, nodding eagerly as if she promised him something. He began strumming his bass spiritedly and the band quickly joined in. Olivia threw her hands up and began dancing, making her tiered fringe dress whip wildly. The crowd's murmur quieted as people stopped to watch her. Olivia danced on, seemingly unaware. It didn't take long for more women, not to be ignored or outdone, joined her. The men quickly followed suit. Harrison remained in his seat, ordering a drink as he looked around for familiar faces. He spotted Fitz Grant, one of the city's most notorious bootleggers, and followed the man's gaze to Olivia. Harrison couldn't decide which of them was worse news for the other.

A waitress delivered his drink then disappeared into the throng of dancing people, her tray held above her head. Olivia dropped into the seat next to him, picking up a napkin to dab at her glistening face. She looked around the small basement, noting that it had been gutted to house a bar and wooden barrels that she guessed held more liquor. The tables lining the brick walls were small and round, flanked by pairs of round chairs with small cushions on them. The floor had been redone with gleaming black and white tile that ended abruptly at a doorway closed off by a curtain. Olivia guessed it was a gambling den since many underground clubs had one.

A waitress appeared beside their table with a carafe of champagne. "Compliments of the owner, ma'am."

Olivia gave a wide-eyed smile as the waitress uncorked the bottle then poured her a glass. "Who's the owner?"

"I can't say." The waitress smiled politely then flitted away.

Harrison laughed, already knowing who it was from. He turned to Olivia. "Gangster's giving you the eye."

He tilted his head in Fitz's direction and Olivia turned to look. She and Fitz made eye contact and he lifted his glass in a toast. Olivia did the same then looked back at Harrison. "Who's that?"

"Fitz Grant."

Olivia's eyes widened. "You're lying."

"Honest to God."

Looking him over, Olivia couldn't believe he was the Fitz Grant everyone was always talking about at parties. With his boyish curls and sparkling blue eyes, he could have been a movie star, or the lead singer of a jazz band, but a gun-toting bootlegger? He just looked too sweet. She stole another glance at him, watching him talk to the two men who wore black suits identical to his, then looked away, shaking her head as she sipped her champagne.

The door flew open, hitting the brick wall with a bang that stopped the music, and a murmur of confusion rose over the crowd only to be silenced by a shout. "Police! Nobody move!"

"Run Liv!" Harrison grabbed his cousin's hand, pulling her along into the throng of people squeezing through the basement's back door and spilling out into the alley behind the building. Thanks to Harrison's broad shoulders, they made it outside relatively quickly, only to find more police waiting. Olivia wasn't sure when she lost Harrison's hand, only that her feet wouldn't stop moving as she hurried toward the street. She didn't even look where she was going as she darted into the street along with other fleers. She weaved between cars, almost to the other side of the street when the heel of her stiletto got stuck in a manhole cover and she fell, hitting the cold asphalt and knocking the champagne haze off her mind.

"Are you alright?" She blinked at the man leaning over her, wondering if she was unconscious and hallucinating. He reached for her waist and lifted her to her feet then repeated his question.

"Yes," Olivia breathed, looking down at herself to make sure she hadn't torn her dress.

"Your knee is bleeding." He knelt to look at it, ignoring the bleating horns of drivers swerving around his car. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the blood. He looked up at her. "It's not bad, just a scrape."

Olivia recognized his clear blue eyes. "You're the man from the party, the one who smiled at me."

He nodded. "We should get out of the street. I can take you home if you want."

"I can't get into your car. I don't even know your name."

"Would you rather stay here and have the police catch you?" he asked as he stood.

Olivia wasn't sure if the police were still rounding people up but she didn't want to find out. She looked back at the cream-colored Rolls Royce where a chauffeur sat in the front seat, watching them patiently, and decided he couldn't be terribly dangerous with a driver. She looked the blue-eyed man over once more then walked around the car, surprised when he hurried around her and opened the back door so she could climb inside.

"This is a nice car," Olivia complimented as she sunk into the leather backseat.

"Thank you. It was a gift," the man replied as he joined her.

Olivia wondered what sort of friend gifted a person with a Rolls Royce. "Must be a good friend."

The man shrugged his broad shoulders. "We're more business partners than friends, honestly."

"Well then it must be good business." She watched him stretch his long legs out in front of him. "You haven't told me your name."

"You haven't told me yours either," he replied with a smile.

"Olivia Pope of Charleston, North Carolina." She offered her small hand for him to shake.

He took it. "Fitz Grant, formerly of New Haven, Connecticut, presently of Long Island, New York."

Olivia blinked. "You're _the_ Fitz Grant?"

He smiled almost boyishly. "I take it from your wide eyes that you've heard of me."

Olivia blushed. "I've heard some things…"

He looked at her questioning but said nothing. Her manners told her to remain silent but his gaze goaded words from her that she couldn't stop. "It's nothing bad…well not really. People have said that you're a bootlegger, but most hold you in the highest regard despite that. Not that there's anything wrong with that…what you do. I mean, it's a crime, but the law's rather silly if you ask me."

Olivia was sure she'd embarrassed herself beyond repair until he smiled, so soft and kind that she could almost imagine she'd fallen in love with him in a single moment. He ran a hand through his hair. "Well I am a bootlegger, which technically does make me a criminal, but it's nice to know people think I'm a nice guy."

"I suppose it's hard to dislike someone who throws such nice parties." She smiled. "I could do without the hundred meter dash at the end though."

He laughed, his head falling back. "I'm sorry about that, and your knee. I don't normally injure my party guests."

She looked down at her knee, covered by his handkerchief. "It's nothing. Although, I've ruined your handkerchief, and it was silk of all things. I'll have to replace it."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I've got hundreds. It seems I get one every time I get a shirt."

"I've only got one silk blouse. It's a terrible fabric for the southern climate. The summer's so hot you can hardly wear it without sweating through it."

"What do you wear then?"

"Seersucker and flannel mostly, although flannel is awful in the heat too. But at least when you sweat in it, no one knows."

Fitz nodded. "Are you hungry? We could get some food if you are."

Olivia looked at her watch. "It's nearly two in the morning. What's still open at this hour?"

"I know a place." He leaned forward and murmured to his driver, who nodded and made a u-turn on the deserted street. A few minutes later, they came to a stop in front of a small building bearing no name on the outside. Olivia wondered what sort of place had no name as the driver opened the door for her. She wrapped her arms around herself as she got out into the chilly night air. Fitz quickly draped his jacket over her bare shoulders.

"I forgot my wrap in all that commotion," Olivia said as his hand gently found her lower back.

"I'll see that you get it back." She had no doubt that he would. Gangster or otherwise, he was seemingly nothing short of a gentleman.

The restaurant was decorated in much the same way as the basement, and there were several people eating despite the late hour. Everyone offered warm greetings to Fitz as they walked through. He looked around the dining room then back at Olivia. "Do you want to eat in here? I have a private room if you'd like to go somewhere quieter."

Olivia wasn't sure what to make of him. "Wherever you want is fine."

Fitz nodded and led her to a smaller room with only one table in it. He pulled out her chair and helped her into it then went to the record player in the corner and turned it on. He smiled as he sat opposite her. "Do you like Bessie Smith?"

"Very much," Olivia answered, smiling as the woman's soft smoky voice filled the small room.

"Me too. A friend took me to see her in Manhattan. She's incredible." Olivia again wondered what to make of him. She didn't think smooth jazz fit the gangster lifestyle. Surely he needed a brasher, more dangerous soundtrack for his life.

She looked down at the perfectly set table and picked up the handwritten menu, wondering what sort of chef handwrote their menu. She looked back up at Fitz. "Do you own this place too?"

He nodded, picking up his own menu. "Yes. It's been in my family for years, since the first Grant got off the boat from Scotland almost a century ago."

Olivia smiled like the cat who'd gotten the cream, things finally clicking for her. "That's how you do it!"

Fitz looked up at her in surprise. "Do what?"

"It's how you smuggle in the liquor. You use this place as a front so the police can't question where your money comes from."

Fitz smiled at her smile, guessing she was quite pleased at figuring out his money front. "Technically you're right, but this place is a real business. It's open during regular hours too. The overnight business is superfluous."

Olivia smiled, placing her chin in her hand. "So are you like the gangsters in the movies? Do you have machine guns in your trunk and a pistol in your breast pocket? And a mansion with a pet snake?"

Fitz laughed. "Well I don't carry a gun. My driver does, but I don't. And I do have a mansion, but no pet snake. I don't have a pet. I'm not home very often and it seems cruel to have an animal rambling around the house with no company."

"I had a dog back home but the poor thing went blind and we had to put her down." She frowned, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I'm sorry."

A waiter appeared before them, dressed in a white jacket and black pants. "Good evening, Mr. Grant."

Fitz nodded at him and the waiter turned to her. Olivia's eyebrows raised when he bowed to her as if she were royalty. "Good evening, ma'am."

Olivia smiled politely. "Good evening."

The man turned back to Fitz. "Are you ready to order sir?"

Fitz looked at Olivia, smiling at her as she read over the menu, her lip still between her teeth. He briefly thought of how much he would like to pull that same lip between his own teeth. "Bring Ms. Pope and myself everything."

"Everything?" Olivia looked up from the menu. There wasn't much food on it but it seemed excessive to order so much food.

He nodded then turned back to the waiter. "Everything on the menu and a bottle of champagne."

The waiter nodded then left them. Olivia looked at him quizzically. "Do we really need so much food?"

"Well, everything on the menu is good. This way you can pick anything you'd like." Fitz would have served her the world on a silver platter if she asked. He knew then that he was in trouble. He was normally only generous enough with women to keep them coming back, but he wanted to lavish Olivia in every luxury imaginable. He could see himself draping her neck in more pearls than the sea had to offer, wrapping her in minks lined with so much silk that she'd forget any other fabric existed, offering her rings with diamonds that would make her little hands too heavy to lift.

The waiter returned with a bottle of champagne and filled their glasses. "Shall I begin bringing in the appetizers, Mr. Grant?"

"Yes," Fitz replied.

"Please," Olivia interjected with a smile.

Fitz grinned too. "Please."

The man nodded and left the room then returned with a cart holding several steaming plates. The waiter seemed to realize that decisions would be left up to Olivia and turned to her. "What would you like to sample first, ma'am?"

Olivia looked over the menu. "The crab cakes."

The man smiled as he set the plate before her. "Excellent choice."

Fitz watched her cut the cake into delicately small pieces then pick up one on her fork to taste it. She smiled. "Oh this is incredible."

"Stephen is the best chef in the city," Fitz replied, pleased that she was enjoying herself.

She picked up another piece and held it out to him. "Do you want some?"

Fitz normally would never have eaten off a woman's fork. It was too intimate, but she smiled sweetly as she held the fork out. He ate the piece of crab cake and nodded. "These are probably the best thing on the menu."

They finished the crab cakes then the waiter turned back to Olivia. "Next?"

Olivia considered the menu again. "Hmmm…I think I'll try the lamb lollipops."

The waiter set the plate before her and Olivia looked at Fitz. "Is it odd that I've never had lamb? My mother always said lamb was Jew food and that Jews were the last thing we should want to be like, which never made any sense to me since we don't even know any Jews, but I digress."

"I suppose not." He sliced a lollipop in half. "Lamb should always be the perfect shade of pink, and so soft that you almost don't have to chew."

Olivia considered the lollipop. "Do I eat it like a drumstick?"

"I do." He smiled as he held the drumstick up to her lips.

Olivia took a bite and smiled as she chewed. "I think I've just found my new favorite food."

xxxxx

After more food than what seemed possible, a different appeared with a cart laden with desserts. He smiled at them. "Hello. I'm Stephen, the head chef. I just wanted to come meet the woman who's gotten to sample my whole menu."

Olivia smiled. "Everything's so good."

"You did a good job, Stevie," Fitz interjected, giving Stephen a pointed look as the man gazed at Olivia. Stephen looked away from Olivia to Fitz and quickly got rid of his smile. "Tell the lady about the desserts."

Stephen picked up a plate of éclairs. "These are my specialty. I whip the chocolate filling until it's light as a feather and bake the puff pastry until it's got the gentlest crunch. The chocolate filling is infused with bourbon for a delightful kick. Then when they're just cooling I dust them with powdered sugar and—"

"Let the lady eat, Stevie," Fitz interrupted.

Olivia smiled when Stephen stepped back to stand next to the cart. She picked up her fork and cut the pastry then took a bite. Her eyes closed as she licked powdered sugar off her top lip. "Oh this is heavenly."

"I have to stop myself from eating those by the dozen," Fitz said, smiling as he watched her take another bite. Stephen smirked at his boss, normally all frowns and criticisms, now grinning and mooning over a woman. Olivia finished the éclair then wiped her mouth. Fitz looked at Stephen. "What's next?"

Stephen set two small bowls in front of them. " _Clafoutis_ made with bourbon coated red cherries and caramelized apples. Careful though, it's a little hotter than I'd normally serve it."

Fitz cut a piece of the dessert and held it to his lips to blow on it gently before holding it to Olivia's lips. Olivia ate a bite then frowned. "Do you not like it?"

"Not as much as I would like," Olivia replied.

Fitz looked at Stephen. "She doesn't like it. What else you got?"

Stephen quickly removed the tray then set another bowl before her. "Cherries jubilee. I used sherry to intensify the cherries' sweet and tart elements, and made the vanilla ice cream myself with a bit of cinnamon."

Fitz picked up the spoon and fed Olivia a bite, watching her face to make sure she liked this dessert. He smiled when a smile spread across her face. "Do you like this one better?"

"It's incredible."

xxxxx

Fitz wrapped his arm around Olivia's shoulders as they re-entered the restaurant's main room. Most of the people had cleared out but a few stragglers remained. He smirked at one of his attorneys, David Rosen, entertaining what Fitz guessed was a group of lawyers. They were talking spiritedly about something when David spotted Fitz.

"Hey! There's the man!" he whooped, waving Fitz over to his table.

"So this is where all the criminals hang out?" Fitz joked. He turned to Olivia. "Liv, this is the biggest group of shysters in the world and their ring leader David Rosen."

"Says the bootlegger." David laughed then turned to Olivia. "And who's this lovely lady?"

"This is Olivia Pope. I almost hit her with my car tonight," Fits replied with a smile.

Olivia laughed. "We need to come up with a better story for how we met."

"That one doesn't really paint me in the best light, does it?" Fitz asked with a laugh.

Olivia shook her head. "Not really."

"Speaking of cars," David said, "I've got something to show you. Follow me."

They all exited the club and went to the back parking lot where David grinned proudly as he placed his hand on a black Rolls Royce not unlike Fitz's. "Can you believe I've finally got one of my own?"

"Mine's better looking," Fitz boasted. "And it's bigger."

David snickered. "I'm sure that's a matter of opinion."

"So how do we settle this?" Fitz asked.

David looked out at the empty two lane street before them. "Easy. We race 'em."

"What's the bet?"

"Standard agreement." David pulled a roll of money from his pocket and Fitz did the same. Olivia looked on with interest, wondering how much money they were betting.

"Shake on it?" The two men shook hands and Fitz turned to Olivia. "Are you comfortable riding shotgun?"

"I suppose." They walked to his car and Fitz took the keys from his driver then opened the passenger door for Olivia. Olivia climbed inside and put on her seatbelt. She could only imagine what her mother would say about her racing in a luxury car with a bootlegger, assuming Maya could say anything before the idea killed her.

Fitz got in the driver's seat and put on his seatbelt then turned to smile at her. "Don't worry. It's not dangerous to race at this hour. No one's on the road."

"'ll take your word for it."

They followed David's car onto the street and Fitz's driver stood on the yellow divider between the two cars. He raised his handkerchief and Fitz revved his engine, stealing a glance at Olivia. "First one to the stop sign wins. On your mark… Get set… Go!"

Olivia's hair whipped back from her face as Fitz floored his gas pedal and sped down the street. She looked to her left and saw that David was close, only a foot or so behind them.

"You know what I love about this car?" Fitz asked, seemingly unbothered by their speed though Olivia's stomach was quivering.

"What?"

He switched into third gear and to Olivia's surprise, they sped up even more. She gasped, unconsciously reaching for his free hand and clutching it. Fitz smiled, wrapping his fingers around hers. "It's full of surprises."

His thumb rubbing the back of her hand, Olivia felt better. Fitz left the top down and the crisp night wind breezed through her hair. She laughed, her head falling back, as they came to a stop at the stop sign. David's car screeched to a halt beside them a moment later. Fitz grinned at him. "So close, Davie."

"Oh, fuck off," David replied, handing off his roll of money.

"Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Rosen." Fitz pulled away from the stop sign and Olivia turned back to wave goodbye. "So where to now, Ms. Pope?"

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know. What else is there to do?"

"We could catch a movie if you want."

"Where could we see a movie at this hour?" She looked at her watch. It was nearly 4 in the morning.

"I have a place."

Olivia blinked at him. "You have a movie theater?"

"Not exactly. It's just a room with a big screen in my apartment. But isn't that really all theaters are, anyway?"

"I suppose you're right."

xxxxx

"Do you want more champagne?" Fitz asked as he led Olivia into the former second bedroom of his penthouse at The Montana, a sprawling apartment building in the middle of Manhattan. "Maybe some strawberries?"

"That sounds lovely," Olivia replied.

Fitz nodded and left, and Olivia left the theater behind him to look around the spacious sunken living room. She took in the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows then turned to look at the rest of the living room. The furniture was white, from the couch to the armchairs to the carpet. Olivia wondered if it was some gangster thing. She frowned at the grand piano's lack of sheet music.

"Do you play?" Fitz asked, announcing his presence in the room. He had been watching her walk around unnoticed for a few minutes, enjoying the completely unstudied grace of her movements.

She smiled. "Very well so I've been told. Do you?"

"Not at all."

"Then why do you have a piano?"

"It was a gift."

Again she wondered what kind of friend would gift another with a piano. She concluded that she was dealing with an economic class whose inhabitants possessed so much that gifts were an eternal conundrum. "What do you give the man who has everything?"

"A piano, apparently." He chuckled softly, watching as she took a seat. She twinkled the keys for a moment then began playing. Fitz wasn't sure he had ever been so enchanted by a woman as he watched her play intently, her small fingers moving gracefully across the keys. He clapped when she finished and Olivia blushed deep crimson. "What's that called?"

"The popular name is _Für Elise_. It's Beethoven. It's the first piece I ever learned to play completely." She wore a small proud smile. She got up from the bench and followed him into the theater room, taking a seat next to him on the second of the two rows of seats. "What movie are we watching?"

"One of my favorite older movies. Have you ever read _Anna Karenina_?"

"Yes, many times."

"This movie is based on the book. Greta Garbo's in it."

Olivia smiled. "Oh I love her."

She expected to fall asleep halfway through the movie, having been up all day and night, but she found herself almost giddy as she and Fitz shared strawberries sprinkled with sugar.

XXXXX

The Next Morning

After the movie, Olivia pulled Fitz's jacket tighter around her shoulders to shield herself from the cool morning air as she stood behind the railing surrounding the balcony of Fitz's penthouse in the middle of Manhattan. She never imagined such a clear view of Manhattan existed. She could even see the Hudson River. She turned to look at Fitz. "I don't think I've ever seen a New York sunrise."

"Stay right here. I'll be right back." He disappeared into the apartment then reappeared with a camera.

Olivia bashfully covered her face. "Oh you can't take my picture! I probably look like something the cat dragged in."

Fitz snapped a picture of her hiding her face, smiling behind the camera. "You look beautiful, Livvie. Smile."

Olivia looked up at him in surprise. No one had called her Livvie since she was in saddle shoes. Something about the way he said it made her insides soft and warm. He snapped her picture again and she smiled a moment after the flash. "One more picture then you put that camera away."

"Yes ma'am." He snapped another picture, this one of her smiling as the wind blew the fringe of her dress. After the flash, Olivia turned away from the camera and resumed looking at the sunrise. Fitz couldn't resist taking another picture of her. She wasn't doing anything he could see, except leaning on the balcony railing, seemingly holding the universe together. She turned and smirked over her shoulder and Fitz lowered the camera. Fitz took her picture yet again. "That was the last one."

He took the camera back into his apartment, making a mental note to have the pictures developed, then joined her on the balcony. He smiled when she yawned. "Are you tired? I feel like I've kept you up all night."

Olivia laughed as she pointed to the sun. "It's morning. You did keep me up all night."

"Then I should probably get you home." He stepped closer, his hands in his pockets. "I'd like to kiss you first, though."

Olivia grinned. "Well I don't see anyone who'll stop you."

Fitz took his left hand from his pocket, bringing it up to hold her face as he lowered his lips onto hers. She tasted like sweet strawberries and that alone was enough to drive him wild, but her scent, lilies and lemons and something minty, nearly drove him wild. And her little hands on his shoulders, pulling herself up on the toes of her pumps and pushing her soft lithe frame against his. Was there anything about her that wouldn't make lust jump double dutch in his veins?

A short while later, his driver stood at the curb, waiting for them as they exited the building. The drive to Harrison's apartment was short and Olivia found herself bubbling with butterflies at the prospect of saying goodbye, and a goodbye kiss. But she stopped herself from fantasizing just as quickly as she'd begun. He was a northern gangster, and she was a southern soon-to-be freshman at Mount Holy Oak College for Girls. They would never work. The previous night was just fun.

Fitz smiled when the car came to a stop before her building. "Shall I walk you up?"

Olivia slipped his jacket off. "I can make it alone. I'm sorry about your jacket, though. It smells like me."

When he took it back, he inhaled the scent on it. Lilies and lemons, a surprisingly heady aroma that he knew would remain on the jacket for as long as it could as he wouldn't be washing it any time soon. He wondered what his friends would think of him if they knew he was mooning over a girl he'd met at a party. He'd never hear the end of it. "That's okay."

She got out of the car and he did the same, towering over her in a friendly manner.

"Thanks for last night. It was unforgettable." There were millions of other words Olivia could have come up with for the evening but unforgettable seemed to fit the best. "Have a nice day, Mr. Grant."

Fitz gave a wry smile. "I don't know how nice it'll be. I've been up all night."

"But wasn't it quite the night?" She smiled almost dreamily.

"Best one in years." He couldn't help smiling back. "So can I call you?"

"Why?" She gave a teasing laugh. Olivia had the distinct feeling that she was going to enjoy keeping a man like Fitz on his toes, if only to get him back for doing the same thing to her.

"I think I'm going to miss you at some point today." Fitz couldn't believe he'd admitted such a thing to her.

She blushed as she looked up at him then rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. "I think I'll miss you too."

She gave him her number then went into the house, blushing when she looked back to find him leaning against his car, watching her with a smile.

xxxxx

Olivia was awakened by rapid knocking at her door. She pulled her face from her pillow, lifting her sleep mask. "Harrison get the door!"

Harrison rolled off the couch, still dressed in his rumpled suit after spending the night in jail with a dozen party-goers, and threw the door open. A freckle-faced delivery boy stood before him, holding a small box stacked atop a larger one. "Is there an Olivia Pope here?"

Harrison nodded then turned toward the closed bedroom door. "Liv it's for you!"

Olivia tumbled out of bed, pulling on her silk robe, then schlepped out of her bedroom. She blinked sleepily at the delivery boy. "Yes?"

"Special delivery from Mr. Grant." He produced a note from his pocket and handed it to her. Olivia opened it, taking note of the monogram adorning the front in gold leaf. She smiled at the slanted handwriting, guessing that Fitz was left-handed.

 _Livvie,_

 _I couldn't find your wrap in the club so I got you a new one. I hope you like it. I got you a scarf too. It's French silk, made by the same designer that makes my shirts. They've got a new line for women that I think you'd like. I'd like to show it to you if you'd like to see it. I'll call you after I've had some sleep._

Olivia read the note twice before she remembered that the delivery boy and Harrison were looking at her. She looked up and took the boxes. "Can you stay here a moment while I go write Mr. Grant a thank you note?"

"I've been instructed to do whatever you say, ma'am," the delivery boy answered. Harrison stepped back and let the boy inside then went back to the couch and lay on the couch.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said then rolled over.

Olivia took the boxes into her room then went to Harrison's desk to retrieve a notecard from her own monogrammed stationary. She sat down and found a pen.

 _Fitz,_

 _You didn't have to replace my wrap. Or buy me what I'm guessing is a rather expensive scarf. Especially since you saved me from a night in jail and showed me such a wonderful time. You're much too kind, really. I promise to call to thank you. Thank you for the gifts, and again for last night._

 _XOXO, Liv_

She gave the delivery boy the note then sent him on his way with a dollar in his pocket. She went back into her bedroom and moved the boxes to the desk then collapsed on the bed again. She wasn't sure if it was the champagne or the lack of sleep, but she couldn't imagine lifting the lids off the boxes, not when her head weighed a ton.

"So you spent last night with the biggest gangster in the city." Harrison's voice made her lift her head to squint at him sleepily.

"He almost hit me with his car. I ruined his silk handkerchief. We ate at a restaurant. We raced in his Rolls-Royce. We saw a movie. It was fun. Goodnight." She dropped her head back on the pillow.

"Are you going to see him again?"

Olivia lifted her head and squinted at him again. "Every chance I get. Goodnight."

"Please tell me you're not in love with him."

Olivia bit her pillow to keep from screaming. She lifted her head a third time. "Okay I won't tell you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Harrison left the room and went back to the couch, wondering how he would explain Olivia's latest hijinks.

xxxxx

It was nearly 9 when Fitz's phone rang. He got up from his chair on the balcony then went inside, hoping it was the call he'd been waiting all day for. He picked up the phone. "Hello."

"Good evening, Mr. Grant." His grin widened at the sound of her voice. "Did you get my note?"

"Yes ma'am." Her note sat on his dresser, placed there after he'd read it several times and inhaled the scent of lilies and lemons on it. "So what are you doing this evening?"

"I don't know. I don't have any plans as of yet. But it's still early. The sun hasn't even gone down yet so anything is possible."

"Well if you're not too tired from last night, would you like to do it again?"

"Which part? Running from the police or stuffing myself silly or racing or watching movies?"

"We could do it all if you want," he replied with a laugh. "Or we could do something else. Have you ever been to Turks and Caicos?"

"No."

"Should we go then?"

Olivia laughed. "That's an awfully extravagant second date, Mr. Grant."

"Not really. It would only be a week or two. That's hardly any time at all when you're on an island so beautiful."

Olivia laughed again. "You're crazy. What would I tell my mother when she doesn't hear from me for two whole weeks?"

"Tell her I kidnapped you. I'm a bad guy. I could pull off something like that." He smiled when she laughed.

"I'll need time to pack." It wouldn't take her long to pack. She would be spending the majority of her time contemplating what she was doing running off to an island she'd never heard of with a criminal whom she'd only met the night before.

"Just pack for the boat. I'll buy you new clothes on the island."

"You've already bought me a new wrap and a scarf."

"I could buy the island and we could walk around naked if that would suit you better."

Olivia laughed. "Exactly how rich are you, Mr. Grant?"

"Let's just say I have more money than I know what to do with."

"Enough to whisk girls away to islands for weeks at a time?"

He laughed. "I suppose so. Will you come then?"

"Well," she paused, keeping him on his toes, "I suppose there's nothing too terribly exciting set to go on for the next week or so."

"That's not a yes."

"It wasn't a no."

"Say yes."

Olivia laughed. "I'll say whatever I want, thank you."

"You have the sassiest mouth," he teased.

"Do I?"

"Yes. It's cute but a bit confusing. I don't know whether I want to kiss you or kill you."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Two weeks should be enough time to do that."

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXO**


	2. Chapter 2

Two Days Later

Olivia sat atop her suitcase while Harrison fastened it shut, smiling as she painted her toenails. Though she was expecting Fitz at any moment, she still hadn't gotten dressed, instead sitting on the suitcase in her silk robe. Her hair was still in rollers and though Harrison had advised her that she would run them late, Olivia hadn't moved. He smirked when the doorbell rang. "And you're not even dressed."

"I'll only be a minute," she replied. Harrison snorted as he left the room to get the door, wondering if he'd ever heard such a lie.

Fitz stood on the other side of the door, dressed casually in a white button down shirt and white linen pants. "Hi. You must be Harrison."

"Yeah. Come on in." Harrison stepped aside to let him in and Fitz entered the small apartment, peering down the hallway at the sliver of bedroom visible through the half-open door. He could hear Olivia moving around but he had yet to see her.

"Liv, Fitz is here," Harrison called.

"I'll be out in a minute," Olivia replied.

Harrison turned back to Fitz. "She's not even dressed yet."

"Oh I don't doubt it." Fitz smiled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked down the hallway. He knocked on the door. "Are you decent? Can I come in?"

He smiled at her girlish giggle. "Who is it?"

"Police!" He stepped into the room and grinned at her. "I'm afraid you're under arrest, little lady."

Olivia smiled as she closed her nail polish bottle. "What's the charge?"

Fitz grinned. "I'll think of something once I've got you handcuffed."

He walked over to where she stood and Olivia thrust out her legs.

"Blow 'em, sugar." She smiled sweetly, filing her fingernails. "Make 'em dry faster."

Fitz took her small feet in his hands. He could almost laugh at himself for actually blowing on her crimson toenails. He blew on them for a few minutes, thinking they shouldn't take long to dry, but also thinking that he wouldn't be able to be so close to her smooth, bare legs for very long. He traced the contour of her calf, bringing his fingertips around to the back of her knee and tickling her gently. Olivia laughed, pulling her leg away. "I think that's quite enough out of you, Mr. Grant."

Fitz only smiled, watching as she slipped off the bed and went to the closet. She pulled out black and white striped jumpsuit and went behind her dressing partition. "Will you go in the closet and get my sandals? The white ones with the ankle strap."

Fitz went into the closet and retrieved the sandals, holding them over the partition. "These?"

"Yes," Olivia replied. "I hope you aren't peeking, Mr. Grant."

It hadn't occurred to him that he was tall enough to look over the partition. "No ma'am. I wouldn't dream of it."

Olivia put on her shoes then walked around the partition, holding the top of her jumpsuit up. "Will you tie this for me? I can't get it."

Fitz's eyes widened as she turned around to reveal her mostly bare back. He quickly composed himself and tied the straps in a bow. "Is that good?"

"Yes." She turned to smile at him, reaching up to smooth his hair back. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied, smiling down at her. She seemed even more beautiful than when he'd last seen her. "You look beautiful."

Olivia blushed. "I don't even have my face on."

"I don't mind."

He watched her walk to her dresser and begin removing the rollers from her hair. Fitz sat on the bed and Olivia grinned at him in the mirror. "You know, Mr. Grant, this is very improper."

"Is it?"

"Yes. My mother would die twice if she knew a man was in my bedroom watching me get dressed."

"Would it help if she knew I didn't see anything?"

Olivia laughed. "Probably not. Your presence is scandalous enough."

She brushed her almost black waves until they lay uniformly then put on eyeliner and red lipstick. Fitz smiled as he watched her curl her eyelashes then pout at the mirror. She grinned at Fitz's reflection. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," he replied. "But you could use a hat. It's very sunny today."

"Is it? I haven't looked." She went to the window and peered out at the sunny morning. "Will you help me put on my sunscreen?"

Fitz's ears blazed crimson as he rubbed the coconut scented sunscreen on her bare back. He breathed in the familiar scent of lilies and lemons, wondering if it was perfume or just her natural smell. He smiled at the top of her head, watching as she pouted at the mirror. "Do you think I ought to cut my hair?"

"Are you going to get a little boy haircut like the girls in the magazines?"

Olivia shook her head. "No. I was thinking chin-length maybe. My mother will die of course, but Harrison's friend Amanda who's a hairdresser says my face is the perfect shape for short hair. But I've had long hair all my life. I wouldn't even know what to do with short hair."

"I think you'd be gorgeous either way."

"Maybe I'll know by the time we get back." She was acutely aware of his hand still making circles on her back though the sunscreen was long gone. She looked up at him with a coy smile. "Are you enjoying yourself rubbing my back, Mr. Grant?"

He slowly stopped. "You'll have to excuse me. Your skin is just heavenly."

Olivia smiled, moving to the closet to retrieve a black wide-brimmed sunhat. She picked up her cat-eye sunglasses from the dresser then turned to look at him. "Are you ready, Mr. Grant?"

Fitz walked over to her, his hands moving to her sides. "Call me Fitz."

"Give me a reason to." There was that coy smile again, playing so teasingly on her crimson lips.

Fitz kissed her, pushing her back into the dresser and lifting her onto it. He planted his hands behind her, growling against her lips when she took hold of his ears and lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist. He sucked on her bottom lip, sinking his teeth into it gently, before moving on to her chin then the hollow of her throat. Her voice was the gentlest purr, soft enough to make him crawl out of his skin. "Oh, Fitz…"

He had never really appreciated his name until she cooed it so sweetly. He kissed her neck. "Again."

"Fitz," she acquiesced immediately, surprising herself. No one had ever wielded her easily.

"Again."

"Fitz." His teeth clamped onto her neck and her breath hitched, a tiny whimper escaping her lips.

Before he could command her again, Harrison opened the door. "Your—I would have expected nothing less, honestly."

Olivia blushed as Fitz stepped back to let her off the dresser. She turned to the mirror and retrieved a tissue to clean up her lipstick then handed Fitz one to do the same then turned to Harrison. "You were saying?"

"The driver is at the door. He said y'all are running late. I can see why now."

"Oh hush. Tell him we'll be out in just a minute," Olivia replied.

Harrison left the room, smirking to himself. Olivia picked up her purse on the dresser. Fitz went to the bed and picked up her suitcase. "You know, Stephen is making us lunch on the boat. Are you hungry?"

"Starving." She grinned wickedly.

He smirked as he walked over to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her close again. "I meant for food, naughty girl."

She giggled at his teeth nipping the curve of her jaw then looked up at him, all faux innocence and doe eyes. "So did I. What did you think I meant?"

Fitz only laughed, giving her hip a squeeze then heading for the door. He held it open for Olivia and she walked out ahead of him. Harrison sat on the couch a pile of photographs splayed on the coffee table before him. Olivia walked over and examined them, smiling when she realized they were snapshots of the party from the night before. "Put the good ones of me in my room."

Harrison smirked. "I didn't take any of you."

"Rude," Olivia replied then walked back to Fitz. "Don't bring me back to him."

Fitz smiled. "So we'll stay on the island forever?"

"Yes." She smiled prettily. "You can buy it and make me queen."

"I suppose I could do that. What do I get in return?"

Her grin widened. "You get to live with a queen."

Fitz laughed. "We'll see."

xxxxx

Olivia looked around the mid-sized yacht with interest. "Where is everyone?"

"There's no one but us and the crew. I hate tourists," Fitz replied, handing their luggage to a young man dressed in all white. Olivia recognized him as the young man who had delivered the packages to her earlier that day.

"Technically I'm a tourist." She smiled, wrinkling her nose.

Fitz laughed. "Perhaps I should throw you overboard then."

"But who would keep you company?"

"Who says you're good company?"

"I must be if you spent a few hours with me before deciding to whisk me away to paradise." She looked around the deserted boat again. "Is this your boat?"

"It's a loaner from a friend. Do you like it?"

"If I say yes, will you buy me one of my own?" She smiled sweetly.

Fitz grinned. "So you want an island _and_ a yacht? And what are you going to give me?"

"All the kisses in the world." She smiled sweetly at him. "And with an island _and_ a yacht, you'll get to watch me run around in a swimsuit year round."

"I suppose that's a fair trade."

"Speaking of swimsuits, where's my cabin? I'd like to change into mine. I hope lunch isn't formal."

"Lunch is however you'd like it to be." Fitz took her hand to lead her to her cabin. "I'll be at the bar when you're finished."

Olivia nodded as she entered her cabin. It was a mid-sized room taken up mostly by the bed which was made with crisp white sheets. There was a small dresser and a dressing table with a large round mirror. Olivia went to the dresser where her suitcase sat and opened it. She pulled out her swimsuit, a red one piece with white trim on the halter neckline and around the leg holes of the shorts. As she put it on, she frowned at the mirror, thinking she should have gotten a sexier suit in preparation for the trip. But she brushed the thought off, remembering that Fitz was going to take her shopping. She'd have plenty of time—and money—for all sorts of swimsuits that would knock his eyes out of his head. She put her hat and sandals back on then left the cabin, looking for the bar. It wasn't hard to find as it faced the bow of the yacht. Fitz sat a few feet away from it on a deck chair. He had removed his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt, and put on sunglasses, looking pleasantly rested as he sipped a mint julep. He looked up, lifting his sunglasses, at the sound of her footsteps. "Wow."

Olivia blushed, lowering her face so the brim of her hat hid it. She took a seat in the deck chair beside his. "Aren't you hot in all those clothes?"

Fitz smirked. "Do I look like a swimsuit kind of guy?"

Olivia looked him over. "You've certainly got the chest for it."

"Thank you, but I think I'll stick to what I'm wearing." Fitz grinned. "Do you want a drink? I've got a fully stocked bar."

"How?"

"International waters."

Olivia looked around. "We're not in international waters. I can still see Manhattan."

"Well I'm already a criminal. What's one more crime?" Fitz shrugged with a smile. He turned toward the bar. "Diego, come serve the lady."

Seemingly within seconds, a hulking Hispanic man was at Olivia's side holding a tray. "What can I get for you ma'am?"

"Did you bring the lady a menu?" Fitz asked.

Diego pulled a menu from the pocket of his apron and presented it to Olivia. She took it and looked over the list of cocktails. "I'd like a Hurricane, please."

"And for lunch, ma'am?"

"Why don't you bring the lady her cocktail first? And send Stephen out here," Fitz replied.

"Please," Olivia added. Diego nodded and went back to the bar. A few minutes later, Stephen appeared at her side, holding her cocktail on a tray. Olivia smiled at him as she took it off the tray. "Thank you. And hello; it's nice to see you again, Stephen."

"You too, Ms. Pope," Stephen replied.

"Tell the lady about the menu, Stevie," Fitz said, taking a newspaper off the small table between them and unfolding it.

"For starters, you have a choice of crab cakes or shrimp salad with a ginger vinaigrette and mandarin oranges. For the entrée, you have a choice of petite servings of Lobster Thermidor and Lobster a L'Americaine, or rack of lamb and mashed potatoes and candied yams. For dessert, crème brulee or cherries jubilee. I would personally recommend-"

Fitz looked away from the newspaper. "Stevie."

He gave a quick nod. "I'll just bring it all."

He disappeared behind the bar and Olivia sipped her drink. "So tell me about this magical island."

"Well, the beaches are so white they're almost blinding, and the water's so clear you can see your reflection. And the resort is beautiful. The beds are so soft that it's like sleeping on a cloud, and the there's a golf course, and a tennis court, and speedboats you can race. You can even ride horses on the beach. Plus they throw these nightly luaus where they serve hog roasted over a fire pit just like the natives eat. And there's a row of little shops that carry just about anything you could want."

Olivia smiled. "Maybe you should buy the island. That certainly sounds like a place I'd like to be queen of."

"You'll practically be queen at the resort. They don't let you lift a finger."

Stephen returned with the appetizers, setting them before Olivia with a flourish. Fitz frowned as he watched Stephen watch Olivia. It couldn't be denied that she was captivating, but he didn't like that everyone could see it so easily. The line of her neck. The curve of her jaw. The way the softness of her temple called for a kiss. Fitz couldn't get over the flow of her lines. And apparently, he noticed with a frown, neither could Stephen.

"Stephen." The man looked away to his boss and realized that he had been staring rather wantonly at Olivia as she dressed her salad. He cleared his throat and moved back, lowering his eyes. Fitz looked to his own salad, frowning as he thought of how many men must fall for her every day.

"Are you alright? You're frowning." Fitz looked up at her and his face relaxed.

"Just thinking about business," he replied. He wasn't sure he'd ever been genuinely jealous before, much less over something so intangible. The number of men who fell for Olivia was arbitrary so long as she fell for him.

She leaned her chin on the small palm of her hand. "Talk to me instead."

There was something intriguing about the way she carried herself. She possessed an awareness of her charm but never made him feel like he was on a string. She seemed to pull him in without trying or really meaning to, but kept him enthralled as if it had been her intention all along.

"What do you want to talk about?"

She grinned, her doe eyes sparkling, and shrugged. "I don't know. Surprise me."

"I once killed a writer just to make a point."

She blinked at him. "What was the point?"

"That I could kill a writer."

Again she blinked, unsure if he was teasing her or not until Stephen snickered. She turned to him with a smile. "He's terrible."

"I meant to make you laugh," Fitz interjected, bringing her attention back to him. He threw Stephen a severe glance and the chef quickly made his exit. He looked back at Olivia. "Come sit with me."

Olivia moved to sit on his deck chair, perching herself on the edge. "Well this isn't very comfortable."

Fitz sat up and pulled her over his left leg so she could sit between them. "Better?"

Olivia smirked at him. "Now why should I sit here when I've got a whole chair for myself?"

"Because you get to sit with me," Fitz replied simply. He removed her hat and ran his fingers through her hair, pulling it back off her shoulders to expose her neck. He leaned over to inhale her scent. She still smelled of lemons and lilies as she had the night before.

xxxxx

One Day Later

Olivia lay on her bed in her cabin, listening to the wind howl outside her small round window. She could feel the yacht rocking as they crested the white-capping waves. Fitz knocked gently then entered the cabin, smiling at her as she lay on the bed clutching her pillow.

"The captain says we're moving through the tail end of a storm," he said as he sat on the bed next to her. He rubbed her back and she looked up at him.

"How long before we move out of it?"

"A few hours. Do you want your dinner?"

She shook her head. "Stay with me."

Fitz kicked off his shoes and lay beside her, pulling her back against him. She yawned and he stroked her hair, hoping to lull her to sleep so that they would be out of the storm when she awoke. The boat rocked and they rolled on the bed with Fitz landing on top of her. He moved to get off her but Olivia grabbed his hand to keep him still. "I feel safer like this."

Fitz lay his head on the pillow beside hers, breathing in the scent of the back of her head. He kissed her hair. "What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow." She smiled at the gentleness of his voice. "What's yours?"

"Blue," he replied.

They lay that way as they crested the roughest waves. When they reached calmer waters, Fitz rolled over and pulled Olivia onto his chest. "When I was a little girl, I used to hide in the kitchen cabinets whenever we had a twister. My mother would always tell me it wasn't safe, but I never felt safer."

Fitz smiled, rubbing her bare arm. "I always got in trouble for standing near the windows during storms when I was little. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was."

"My granny used to always joke that I was so tiny that the wind would blow me away. And I was so little that I believed her. You couldn't pry me out of those cabinets if it started raining."

They talked softly until Olivia drifted off to sleep, snuggling close to Fitz and breathing in his clean scent. She wasn't sure what it was about his embrace that made her feel so safe and secure, only that she never wanted to fall asleep without his voice in her ear again.

XXXXX

Turks and Caicos

Olivia smiled at the dark-skinned man who greeted them at the resort's entrance. He wore a white linen suit and brown leather sandals. "Welcome to The Emerald Resort and Spa, where we aim to treat our guests like royalty. I am Samuel, the manager."

"Hello. I'm Fitz Grant. You spoke with one of my associates."

The man nodded. "Yes sir. You reserved our Jewel Suite. We've been expecting you."

He clapped twice and in minutes two other appeared to collect their luggage. Fitz smirked at Olivia's three suitcases. "I thought I told you to only pack for the boat."

"I did. Those are my absolute essentials."

Fitz only smiled, shaking his head, then turned back to Samuel. "Ms. Pope and I will be back for dinner. We need a car to take us to the shops."

"Yes sir. Right away." Samuel disappeared quickly along with the young men carrying the luggage.

Olivia looked up at him with a smirk. "Does everyone respond to you that way?"

He smiled and popped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "Everyone but you."

A few minutes later the car arrived and took them down the single paved road to a row of shops. Fitz tapped the driver. "You can let us out here and meet us at the other end."

"Yes sir, Mr. Grant," the man replied then got out of the car to let Olivia out.

"Thank you." She smiled at him. "What's your name?"

"James, ma'am. I'm the resort's chief driver."

"James," they both turned to look at Fitz as he came to a stand in front of Olivia, producing a dollar from his pocket, "why don't you get yourself a Coke? Ms. Pope and I will be while."

"Thank you, sir." He nodded at them then headed across the street to a fruit stand.

Fitz turned to Olivia. "Where do you want to start?"

Olivia looked up at the boutiques' signs. "Let's go in them all."

He walked to the first shop and opened the door. "After you ma'am."

It took four hours for them to make it through all the shops. Fitz was surprised by how much fun he had spending money on her, watching her try on dresses and hat. He bought her 20 dresses, 10 pairs of shoes, 8 swimsuits, 6 hats, 5 blouses and 5 pairs of pants to match, and4 pairs of sunglasses.

Olivia laughed at him carrying her pastel shopping bags. "We didn't get you anything."

Fitz smiled. "Well what should we get me?"

She stopped in front of a hat shop. "Let's get you a nice hat for the beach."

"I'm not really a sunhat kind of guy, Liv," Fitz replied, smiling as she took his hand to lead him inside. She wore another jumpsuit, this one white with blue nautical stripes. Fitz noticed it was backless like the other one. She removed her sunglasses as she led him to the men's section. She picked up a cream colored fedora and put it on him. "Very nice. Very gangster at the beach."

Fitz laughed, looking at himself in the mirror. The hat matched his cream linen pants. "All I'm missing is a cigar and a machine gun."

Olivia took the hat to the front counter and set it down then opened her purse. Fitz smirked. "I thought we agreed this trip was on me."

"Well this is on me. Consider it a thank you present for paying for the rest of the trip." She looked at the bespectacled man behind the counter. "How much is it?"

"Five dollars," he replied, reaching up to stroke his salt-and-pepper beard as he eyed the pair curiously. Olivia handed over a five dollar bill then picked up the hat and placed it on Fitz's head.

She smiled. "You look like a movie star."

Fitz grinned at her as he took her hand to leave the store. "I can't be in pictures. I'm a wanted man, baby."

"Well if you're wanted, maybe we should stay here forever. This certainly seems like the kind of place I could get used to."

They walked down the sidewalk to their car then went back to the resort. Olivia changed into one of her new bathing suits, a yellow bikini with red polka dots, and a large sunhat then went to lay by the pool, mindful of Fitz watching her from the balcony off their suite where he sat reading the paper.

XXXXX

One Week Later

"What should we do tonight?" Olivia asked as she and Fitz lay by the pool. The sun was setting but it was still too hot to go to bed just yet.

Fitz could think of one thing he almost desperately wanted to do, but he was playing it chaste. But sharing a bed with Olivia was driving him wild, especially since her night clothes were flimsy at best. And every kiss just whet his appetite for more. He could hardly keep his hands to himself, but he had yet to push his boundaries as far as he thought they could go. "Come read to me."

Olivia got up from her lounge chair, her worn copy of _Gone with the Wind_ in her hand, and joined him on his chair, settling comfortably between his legs and laying back on his warm, bare chest. Fitz found himself only half listening, instead focused on her scent and the warmth of her skin. He had yet to figure out if the scent of lilies and lemons came from her hair, her soap, or her perfume, but he found it dizzyingly intoxicating nonetheless. He leaned down to nuzzle the shell of her ear, murmuring her name. Olivia smiled. The gentle adoration of his touch made her so warm inside that she wondered how she'd restrained herself for so long. She was 20, and contrary to what people believed, she knew the ins and outs of desire. And she'd never desired anyone like she desired Fitz.

His warm breath on her ear made her want to crawl out of her skin, but his teeth nipping the small lobe pushed her too far. She gave a sharp inhale, her eyes snapping shut. Still he went on, murmuring her name over and over.

Olivia. Her name encompassed a softness and sensuality that suited her. He didn't really know what he was doing or what he was after. He just knew that there was a fire in his chest and a hunger in his groin that were driving him insane. Whatever those half-understood questions were that were shooting through him, the answer was Olivia. He moved his lips to her neck and she began quivering.

She was practically convulsing by the time he stopped. "I know what we should do."

Her eyelids heavy, she turned to look at him. "What?"

She was hoping he would say go to bed, or the floor near the bed, or any solid surface. He kissed her cheek, lingering close to her lips. "We should get married."

Olivia's eyes widened as she looked at his serious expression. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were drunk."

Fitz laughed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were chicken."

"I am _not!_ " Her voice was almost childlike.

"Are you as crazy about me as I am about you?"

"Yes," she answered immediately, her gaze never wavering.

"Then let's do it."

Olivia smiled. "Can I wear that red dress you like?"

"You can wear whatever you want as long as you say I do."

Olivia squealed as she hopped off his lap. Fitz smiled as he followed her into their bedroom. He showered quickly and put on his black suit. He took a seat on the bed, listening to the shower run in the other bathroom, and guessed Olivia would move at her usual, glacial pace. He checked his watch and an idea struck him. He left the room in too big a hurry to leave Olivia a note, headed for the hotel gift shop. He was still gone when Olivia emerged from the bathroom in her dress. She frowned, wondering where he'd gone, and sat on the bed. She wondered what her mother would say when she arrived in North Carolina with a husband of all things—and a white one to boot. Maya wouldn't ever hear of Fitz's bootlegging and criminal record because the news of the marriage would kill her first. She wondered why she was so sure of herself, if she was just excited or if she'd let her girlish crush run wild. She didn't have time to dwell on it because the door opened and Fitz entered.

"Where'd you go?" she asked. "You know, it isn't very husbandly to leave without notice."

"I went to get you something." He smiled as he walked over, making her smile at the pride on his face, and knelt before her. He pulled a ring box from his pocket and set it on her lap. Olivia opened the box and smiled at the sapphire ring. "It's just costume jewelry. I'll get you a real ring when we get back to the States, but it's the best I could do on such short notice."

"It's beautiful. Did I tell you that sapphire is my birthstone?"

He smiled so bright, so pleased with himself. "No. It was just the prettiest ring they had in the gift shop."

Olivia smiled softly at him, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. "I'd have never guessed a gangster could be so sweet."

"Just wait. You haven't seen anything yet."

xxxxx

Fitz wasn't sure what he expected Olivia's wedding night lingerie to look like, just that she was grinning proudly as she slipped off her calf-length red dress, whose back dipped almost low enough to show the small of her back. He noted that she liked to show her back, one of many little things about her that drove him crazy. She allowed her dress to fall around her ankles and stood before him in black lingerie accented with white lace. Her breasts nearly spilled out of the curves and her hips were a sinful curve from her waist. Her legs were long and shapely, and the sway of her body as she walked to him almost shyly made him believe that all women should be her understudies. She stopped between his legs, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Do you think we'll fell crazy in the morning?"

Fitz looked up at her, watching as she released her hair from its chignon. "I won't."

"Me neither." A glimmer of a smile ghosted her ruby lips. Fitz leaned back on the bed and Olivia climbed atop him. "Would you believe me if I told you I was a virgin?"

"Yes," he replied, though the thought hadn't occurred to him at all since he'd met her.

"I'm not." She ran her fingernails over his bare chest. She leaned over to kiss him, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth. "Make love to me."

And he did. Over and over. Olivia's cries echoed off the walls so loudly that a shy bellman knocked softly on the door to see if she was okay. Fitz wasn't sure he'd ever tasted a woman so sweet. He couldn't stop himself from eating her hours, trying to gut her like fruit. Fitz was surprised when she agreed to make love on the balcony, and even more surprised that she seemed to enjoy it more than he did.

Later she lay on his chest, naked and asleep, branded like cattle from his lips and teeth. He looked at the fake sapphire on her left ring finger, her hand beside his head from when she'd stroked his hair until she drifted off to sleep, telling him about all the things she wanted when they got back to the States.

"I want a white house with blue shutters, and one of those big wraparound porches that goes around the whole house. And rocking chairs. But it has to be near the beach cause I want a boat. And a dog, one of those little furry ones that you keep in the house." She had yawned and her voice trailed off soon after. When he squinted at her in the darkness, he found her eyes closed.

He wasn't sure what made him crazier: the sex or her soft voice and the light in her eyes.

XXXXX

The Next Morning

They stood before the mirror, gloriously naked, her arms raised above her head to wrap around his neck. His hands covered her breasts, kneading them softly, then moved down her stomach to rest on her hips. He was already inside her, not yet moving, waiting and savoring, and Olivia was quivering, standing on her toes and praying for the gentlest nudge. She had only been with one other man, a fumbling first time beside the lake in her hometown, but she knew that she had stumbled upon the kind of lovemaking that made people do crazy things. She and Fitz had the real deal, the connection you found and never let go of. Fitz stared at her in the mirror, admiring the way they looked together: dark and light, both untamed.

"Fitz!" She couldn't take it. It wasn't enough. He couldn't dangle her on that string, so close but so far away from heaven.

"Say my name," he growled, leaning her forward and finally moving, deep, strong strokes that lifted her off the floor.

"Fitz," she mewled.

"Again." He wasn't sure whose body belonged more to whom as they moved against each other.

"Fitz…" Olivia thrust her hips back wantonly. Hers…

"Again." Fitz took hold of her hips, matching her movements with his own. His…

"Fitz…" She wound her fingers in his hair, tugging desperately as she quivered against him. Hers…

Each capitulation earned a rewarding stroke, each one deeper than the last until Olivia was shaking. She could feel the tide welling up inside her, so close and so needed. They moved together, danced; urgent and primal. Completing an ancient ritual, sealing a vow between them.

"Fitz!" She finally submitted, planting her hands on the dresser and letting him drive her to the brink. His….

"God Liv…" was all he managed before everything went white and he exploded inside her, pulling her along over the cliff. His hips took on a life of his own, pumping and rolling, chasing just one more thrill as his mind swam in euphoria. Olivia moved with him, the arch in her back sharpening as he held her to him, kissing and murmuring.

They fit so well together. That was what Fitz loved the most.

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXOXO**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey! This update has been sitting around since the semester started but everything's been so wild that I really haven't had time to work on it. Same goes for YAINTGB. I've got some free time this week so I'll hopefully get that one finished too.**

June 1930 · New York

Olivia lay across the couch in Fitz's living room, watching him pace in front of the windows, the phone in his hand. She wondered why he wouldn't sit down as the cord only allowed him to move so far but he seemed to conduct all his business that way, pacing and looking out at the city. She held the day's newspaper, looking through the society page. She had been featured twice, coming or going from some play or symphony with Fitz. He didn't like the cameras but Olivia could never resist stopping to pose and smile. She loved showing off her ring most of all. When they returned to the states in the middle of the month, he had kept his word and bought her a gold ring with a sapphire the size of a dime. He wouldn't tell her how much it had cost him but she guessed quite a lot as everyone gawked at it whenever she raised her hand. Fitz made a fifth lap in front of the windows and she put the paper down to smirk at her husband of a month.

"Fitz, I'm lonely," she cooed, giving him her best baby doll eyes.

Fitz looked at her for a moment then turned back to the window. "Get it done. I don't care how."

He hung up the phone then turned to her. She smiled as she put the paper on the coffee table then sat up to pout at her husband. Fitz smirked as he walked over and sat on the couch beside her, smiling when she climbed into his lap. "Good morning."

Fitz chuckled, smirking as he leaned in to kiss her offered temple. "Is that all you wanted?"

Olivia raised her head, nodding sheepishly with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Fitz laughed as he wrapped his arms around her. "You're incorrigible. Did you know that?"

Again she nodded sheepishly, her lips curling in a smile. She lay her head on his shoulder. "I made an appointment to get my hair cut."

Fitz knew then why she wanted his attention. She had been vacillating about cutting her hair since they'd left for Turks and Caicos. She wanted to try the popular bob style, but she didn't want to cut her hair if he didn't want her to. He didn't think of her age much, but every so often he would be reminded of his wife's youth. Those were usually the moments he loved her most, when she turned her wide doe eyes on him and her vulnerability became most apparent. The only competition for those moments was when she was angry and he could see the fire dancing behind her eyes. She was perhaps the only person in the world who wasn't afraid of him, and definitely the only one who wasn't afraid to show it. He tightened his hold on her and kissed her forehead. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"You don't have to." Fitz knew then that he did. She wouldn't go without him.

Before Olivia could reply, Stephen appeared in the doorway. "Breakfast is served."

Olivia smiled as she sat up, Fitz's arms falling to her waist. Stephen found himself staring at Fitz's chin, occupying the space above her head, to avoid looking at her in her white nightgown and red silk kimono robe. He had imagined he'd shake his attraction to her during hers and Fitz's vacation, but in the week they'd been back, he had become her reluctant companion, something like security and something like a pet, when Fitz was working. He had never pegged his lifelong friend for someone who liked to watch others suffer, but he wasn't sure what game Fitz was playing with him, leaving him at Olivia's disposal.

"What's for breakfast?" Olivia asked.

He almost didn't hear her talking to him, so engrossed in not looking at her. His eyes flickered to her briefly. "Omelets and that fruit salad you like."

"Good," she replied with a smile as she stood and walked to the kitchen.

Fitz stood a moment later, giving Stephen a long look, and was about to follow his wife when the phone rang. He glanced at Stephen once more before going to answer it. Stephen frowned as he went into the kitchen. Olivia sat at the table, pouring champagne into her half-full glass of orange juice. Stephen wasn't sure what made her so transfixing. The way her hair curled lazily in the pile atop her head, the swell of her breasts beneath her whispery white nightgown, the line of her back as she leaned forward in her chair, the delicate way she crossed her ankles under her chair. He couldn't get over the flow of her lines.

"Can I ask you something?" he blurted, his mouth seeming to speak independently of his brain.

"Anything," she replied congenially, not looking up from the second glass she was pouring champagne into.

"What would you do if—" He stopped abruptly, making her look at him, and clenched and unclenched his fists as he gathered his words more appropriately. "I have a friend who's having some very…inappropriate feelings for the girlfriend of a friend. He and the girlfriend have a…special…re—friendship but he—my friend—is sure they could be more than that. They've got a, kind of a thing, between them that just, er, clicks. And my friend isn't sure if he should say something but he… He's so… He's in that kind of slit-your-throat, tear-your-hair-out, shout-from-the-rooftops kind of love that he almost can't keep quiet, especially since they're together a lot."

Olivia's face burned as she looked down at her perfect omelet. She'd had her suspicions about Stephen, always catching her looking at him when he thought she wasn't paying attention, but she had no idea he thought he was in love with her. She rubbed the back of her neck, turning slowly to look at him as he stood red-faced at the stove. "Does your friend— Does the girlfriend love your friend's friend?"

"Looks like it," he replied sullenly, frowning at his black shoes.

"Well then I think your friend should cherish the friendship he has with the girlfriend. It's not everything, but it's something. And my mother always told me that sometimes you've got to be happy with what you've got. It may not be exactly what you want, but it's more than nothing. And life isn't fair. Your friend should remember that before he does anything to damage his relationships with his friend or the girlfriend. Since the girlfriend is in love with someone else, he'd be pouring out his heart only to get it broken—no matter how reluctantly—and he'd lose two friends for essentially nothing. I think your friend should think very carefully about what he's risking for fickle feelings."

Olivia turned back to her plate, suddenly not hungry. She didn't want to hurt Stephen, or to stop being his friend, but she couldn't give him what he wanted. She didn't have it to give. Stephen was nice, and maybe if she'd met him first, he would have been the one. But nothing about their easy laughter compared to the way Fitz made her heart hammer. Sometimes she was so full of love for him that she could barely eat. Stephen made her smile. Fitz made her feel alive. There was no comparison, and therefore no hope for him.

Stephen walked to the table and stood before her. He tentatively placed his hand atop hers. "But my friend doesn't—he told me, I mean—that he doesn't think he'll ever stop feeling how he does."

"Maybe he hasn't tried to stop." Olivia pulled her hand away and rubbed the back of her neck again, trying not to show her discomfort. It wasn't just that she didn't feel the same way, it was that she knew Fitz would blow a gasket if he had even the faintest idea that Stephen felt the way he did, or that he'd brought it up, however surreptitiously he'd attempted to do it.

"He most definitely has!" He slammed his rejected hand on the table and made Olivia jump. He didn't mean to sound so harsh but his heartbreak was becoming a bitter disappointment that was begging to be rage.

"Maybe he'll have to try harder," Olivia replied evenly, not looking at his red face.

"What's the matter?" Fitz asked, making his presence known. Olivia jumped and looked at him, not sure how much he'd heard. Fitz was frowning deeply, but she couldn't decide if it was because he'd overheard their conversation or if it was just because Stephen had raised his voice to her.

"Nothing," Stephen replied as he stepped back from the table.

Fitz looked from his friend to his wife for confirmation. He'd have readily wrung Stephen's neck for upsetting her, much less yelling at her. Olivia stood, pulling her robe around her. "Nothing. I'm just not hungry anymore."

She left the kitchen, easing around her husband's hulking frame in the doorway, and Fitz could see her biting her cheek like she was trying not to cry as she quickly slipped by him. He turned his eyes on Stephen. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Stephen huffed, clearing the breakfast with more force than necessary.

"Then why did you yell at Liv?" Fitz hadn't heard the conversation, too busy on the phone, but he didn't really care what context Stephen believed gave him the right to yell at Olivia.

"I didn't yell," Stephen muttered like a petulant child.

"Alright, smart ass, why did you raise your voice? Loud enough for me to hear in the other room while on the phone, no less."

"I lost my temper. I apologize. Tell Liv I'm sorry too."

Fitz wanted to probe further but Olivia called him from their bedroom. He turned in the direction of her voice to tell her he'd be there in a minute then turned back to his friend. He gave an almost ominous smile. "Don't yell at her again. I did it the first time we fought on the island and she about took my head off with a plate. Not to mention that I'll cut your tongue out."

"Got it," Stephen replied, not looking away from the omelet he was scraping into the garbage.

Fitz left the kitchen and headed to his and Olivia's bedroom. He smirked every time he entered the room. Olivia had lived with him for two weeks but had already made the place her own. She'd bought a vanity and frilly yellow bedsheets, and even a gauzy white canopy for the bed. Presently, she lay on the bed with the canopy drawn closed around her. Fitz walked to the bed and pulled back the curtain, slipping inside it and lying on the bed next to his wife. She looked at him dolefully. "Did you fire him?"

"Do you want me to?" He'd have gladly fired Stephen at her behest.

"No. It's not his fault. He just misunderstood."

"Misunderstood what?" Fitz was getting a clearer picture of what the issue in the kitchen had been regarding.

"Everything," Olivia replied cryptically, aware that what she was saying could have gotten Stephen fired at the least and beaten to death at the most.

"Did he do something to you, Livvie? Tell me the truth." Fitz sat up and looked down at his petite wife, only imagining what someone Stephen's size could have done to her, frightening her being the least of which.

"Nothing but hurt my feelings. But I think I hurt his first." Olivia knew it was all her fault. She should have gone with her gut the first time she'd caught him looking, shouldn't have brushed it off as him admiring her new dress. She should have hashed the whole thing out then and there. But she hadn't. She didn't want to make any waves over an assumption. But now everything was on the verge of falling apart and it was all because of her.

"What happened?"

"We misunderstood each other and I should have fixed it but I didn't. I unintentionally mislead him to believe something that wasn't true and he's upset. I think I owe him an apology, honestly."

If Fitz didn't know his wife as well as he did—and Stephen too, for that matter—he would have been completely lost as to what she meant by her cryptic answers, but he knew very well what was going on. He frowned as he rubbed away the crease between her eyebrows. "You didn't do anything wrong. He did what he wanted and saw what he wanted and now he's angry that his perception isn't reality. You can't control what people think, Livvie. You can't control what people believe. As long as you didn't encourage it, it's not your fault."

"I didn't. At least I didn't mean to. I just thought… I don't know what I thought." Olivia had assumed he was just nice to her because she was his friend's wife, and as they were together more in the two weeks following her honeymoon while Fitz caught up on dealings he'd missed while on the island, she'd assumed he just liked her as a person. She liked him as a person and figured it was mutual. Apparently she had unwittingly been sending the wrong message.

"You thought he liked you the way you liked him, and he thought the same thing. You were just thinking about different kinds of liking a person." Olivia nodded reluctantly and Fitz could see her age again. He wouldn't have gone as far as to say that she was naïve for thinking a man could simply like her—after all, he liked her in both senses—but he knew there were subtleties to the differences between admiration and attraction that she'd undoubtedly missed. "That's not your fault, Livvie. I promise."

"I feel like a tramp," she admitted quietly, not looking at him.

"For what?"

"I was so nice to him. I laughed at his jokes. And I invited him along with me on errands. He must have thought—"

"You were nice to him because you're a nice person. You're nice to everyone, even police. It's all that southern charm. It's one of those strange things I've grown to love about you. And I made him go everywhere with you. I told him to do whatever you said. He was supposed to be protection like your driver. You didn't do anything but offer him honest friendship, and if he turned that into something else—as men have a habit of doing—then that's his problem." Fitz smoothed her hair as he resumed lying beside her and pulled her close to kiss her lips. "Don't be sad, baby. And don't frown. I hate to see my kitten frowning."

Olivia couldn't stop frowning, her bottom lip protruding. "I don't have a friend anymore."

"I could buy you some. What kind do you want?" Fitz smiled when she finally laughed.

"I think I'll be okay. I'll just drag Harrison around with me. He's not doing anything but taking those silly pictures all day." She snuggled closer in his embrace and looked up him, her nose brushing the underside of his stubbly chin. "Don't be mad at him."

"I can't help it. He hurt your feelings. And he yelled at you. He's lucky I didn't give him a Colombian necktie for it."

"What's that?"

"Nothing you should know about." He kissed the crown of her head.

"Why do you tell everyone to do whatever I say?"

"Because you're in charge when I'm not here."

"Is that why Mrs. Sorentino calls me ' _Il Bambino Reale_? What does that mean anyway?" Olivia had found the silver-haired Italian housekeeper's nickname for her endearing but now she wondered what the old woman was implying.

Fitz chuckled. "It means "the royal baby." Mrs. Sorentino doesn't believe you're as old as I said. She thinks you're some kind of child bride that I brought back from the island."

Olivia frowned, biting her lip. She wasn't sure what to make of the revelation. She looked at Fitz. "Well that's not nice. You're only like 7 years older than me anyhow."

Fitz's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered what possessed her to believe him so young. He looked at his wife. "Do you really think I'm that young?"

"You don't look any older than that," Olivia replied, studying her husband's face for some sign of his true age. She had heard that white people didn't age well so she guessed he couldn't have been very old at all as he didn't have any of the signs of aging. His mahogany hair showed no signs of thinning or graying. His blue eyes were still as sharp and clear as the sky. His skin was still smooth and tan. She wasn't sure what to make of him. Either he was teasing her, or he had access to some secret fountain of youth.

"I'm 34, Livvie." He wasn't sure what to think when her eyes widened in surprise.

"You're only 8 years younger than my mama," she replied in disbelief.

"Is that okay?"

Olivia shrugged. "It doesn't make me any difference. Mama's gonna die two or three times—after she dies the first time cause I got married—but I guess we'll just have to deal with it. Course, she's gonna die a few times cause I cut my hair, and cause I didn't wear white at my wedding."

Fitz smirked. "You talk a lot about your mother dying."

"It's her fault. That's what she's always saying." She put on her mother's thick southern drawl, much thicker than her own. "'Olivia Carolyn I swear 'fore the Lord you make me so crazy I could die!' ' I'll die from the scandal.' 'I'll die first 'fore you leave my house dressed like that.' 'You act so much like your crazy daddy that I could die just thinking about it.'"

"I take it melodrama is a family trait?"

Olivia smirked. "The most prominent next to brown eyes."

XXXXX

Two Weeks Later

Charleston, South Carolina

Maya Pope sat on the wraparound front porch of her home, humming along with the radio as she rocked her porch swing. She could hear the young man who mowed her lawn putting away the lawn mower in the shed behind the house and she smiled at him singing along with the radio. The boy had a lovely voice, one she knew Olivia would swoon over when she returned in the fall. Maya had never considered herself a meddlesome mother, but Olivia didn't seem to have any direction, so she took matters into her own hands. The young man, Jackson, was intent on going to medical school, and who wouldn't want their daughter married to a doctor? Plus he was almost sinfully handsome, and the most mannerly young man Maya had met in a long time. She wouldn't see her Livvie married off to a man like her father, a man with wild dreams who'd left them both behind to play his saxophone in Europe as if responsibilities simply disappeared because they didn't fit a person's plans.

Jackson walked around the house and Maya's face relaxed. "All finished?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Do you want me to get your mail before I go?"

"Would you? You're a dear." She smiled at the back of his head as he went down the walkway to the mailbox. He came back with a stack of mail and the newspaper. "Set that mail in the kitchen and hand me the paper."

Jackson did as he was told, something else Maya liked about him, then took a seat on the house's front steps to finish his glass of tea. Maya opened the paper and immediately found the Society section, eager to see the snapshots of the Kentucky Derby from the week before. She smiled as she looked at the extravagant hats and brightly patterned dresses, smirking at some of the tackier combinations. "For all the money they spend on those clothes, you'd think they'd take a little better care with picking them."

"Mama's always saying that money don't buy taste," Jackson replied.

"It sure ca—" Had her fingers not tightened on the paper's edges, it would have fallen from her hands at the sight of Olivia, grinning at the camera as she thrust her hand out to show off a large stone. A white man held her to him by her waist, smiling as he squinted at the camera. "Jesus Christ…"

"What is it?" Jackson asked, turning to look at her.

Maya didn't reply, instead staring at the picture's caption as if she'd forgotten to read. _Fitzgerald Grant, a long-time attendee travelling all the way from New York, surprised everyone by showing up with a wife, a Mrs. Olivia Grant formerly Olivia Pope of Charleston, North Carolina._ _"Isn't she the most beautiful woman here?" the rumored bootlegger asked reporters as they gaped at the young woman's gigantic sapphire wedding ring._ Olivia grinned at her from the paper, wearing a large sunhat and a floral-printed sundress, her hand thrust out at the camera whose flash glared off what Maya guessed was a sizeable jewel. Maya's hands shook as she put the paper down and stood on uneasy legs. "I've got to go."

"Where? Do you want me to drive you?" Jackson stood as well, looking at her with concern.

"New York," Maya replied. She couldn't stop hearing the phrase "wedding ring" bouncing around in her mind. Surely she hadn't. Olivia was many things, but Maya had never imagined her daughter was crazy enough to marry some white man involved in only God knew what. And where was Harrison? Surely he hadn't let his little cousin run off and marry any old man sniffing at her.

"What? Is it Olivia?" Maya didn't answer either of his questions as she hurried into the house. She raced upstairs and threw the hall closet door, quickly pulling out her suitcase. In her bedroom, she threw in her most recently washed dresses and a few undergarments, not really paying attention to what she was packing. She could only hear the phrase "wedding ring" over and over. Jackson was still standing in the same spot where she'd left him when she emerged from the house, a sweater and hat hastily thrown over her purple sundress. "What's wrong Ms. Pope?"

"I need to get to the train station. Where's your truck?" Jackson didn't think he'd ever seen the prim older woman look so distressed or disheveled.

"Around back. I'll get it." He hurried around the house with Maya hot on his heels. Jackson drove her to the airport as fast as he could with Maya urging him to speed up the entire drive. She didn't say anything as she jumped out of the truck and hurried inside the station. Jackson wasn't sure if he should follow but decided to go home. She'd have asked for his company if she wanted it.

Inside the station, Maya hastily bought a ticket to New York and sat anxiously bouncing her knee as she waiting for the boarding announcement. She looked again at the picture of Olivia and her husband—her husband!—and wondered what sort of nonsense her child had gotten into. Maya hadn't been crazy about the idea of her spending the summer in New York in the first place. Now her worst fears had been confirmed. Olivia had gotten into only god knew what, and Maya would have to fix it.

XXXXX

Three Days Later

New York

Olivia frowned as she and Fitz sat at the wrought iron table on the roof. She picked at her breakfast, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Fitz sighed and put down his newspaper. "How long are you planning to keep quiet? I know it's killing you."

"I just think you could have told me you were getting a new cook. Or let Stephen and I work things out ourselves. I bet he hates me," she replied.

Fitz had hired a new cook for their personal use, a jolly French-Haitian woman named Evie who wore the same perfume as Olivia's mother. The woman was lovely, with smooth coal black skin and bright white teeth, and Olivia liked her melodic accent, but she didn't like that Stephen was gone and that she hadn't gotten to explain herself.

"Well so what if he hates you? He's the one who overstepped his boundaries. And if you don't like Evie, we can get someone else. But Stephen isn't coming back."

"But he was my friend," she protested weakly.

Fitz frowned. "He was my friend too. And my friend before yours for that matter. How do you think I feel about him coming onto my wife? In my own house? I've known him since we were in shorts and this is what he does to me the first time I fall in love? I know you liked him, and I did too—I still do—but he can't be in my house after that. There aren't many rules with people like us, but some things are unacceptable."

Olivia frowned at the bubbles in her mimosa, dejectedly twirling her finger around the rim of the glass. Fitz frowned. "Livvie… Tell me how to fix it."

"It doesn't need fixing. I just have to get over it." She sighed then frowned, slamming her fork down with a clatter against the plate. "I'm so damn mad at him for being such a jackass, and at you for strutting around making changes like you're the fucking sultan of the palace or something. I could kill the both of you for being such… _men_."

Fitz didn't mean to but he laughed. Angry Olivia was probably his second favorite side of her. Olivia scowled at him. "Stop laughing at me before I give you a Colombian necktie."

Fitz howled. "You don't know how."

"Yes I do. Howard told me what it was," she replied.

"Well since you're threatening me, I guess I shouldn't tell you what I've got planned for you."

Her expression changed, quick as a coin toss, and she was his Livvie again, all doe eyes and that pretty smile. "What is it?"

"I was going to throw you a birthday party, but I think since you're being so bratty you should turn twenty in time out," he replied.

"But it's my birthday," she whined, leaving her seat and plopping on his lap. "When is the party?"

"Tomorrow night so you'd better behave." He nipped the curve of her jaw and she giggled.

"What do I get if I'm bad?"

"You don't wanna know," he murmured in her ear, his teeth locking onto the lobe.

XXXXX

One Day Later

Olivia smiled as she twirled around in the middle of the living room. Fitz leaned against a wall watching her dance, a smile on his face. She wore a short black dress with a tight strapless bodice and a skirt made of feathers that her gyrating hips sent swinging. Fitz chuckled as she danced circles around Harrison. He didn't seem concerned, continuously snapping her picture with the camera permanently around his neck. She grinned widely, showing off for the camera. Fitz met her in the middle of the floor and wrapped his arms around her winding waist.

"You're having fun," he said, planting a kiss on her temple.

"I don't think I've ever had such a fun birthday," she replied.

"Smile!" Harrison instructed, pointing the camera at them.

Olivia turned to smile at the camera but Fitz was still looking down at her, smiling at her happy face. They seemed to be in the same position in every picture they took together, Olivia smiling at the camera as Fitz smiled at her or laughing as Fitz kissed her. Fitz couldn't help it. There was nothing else to look at when Olivia was near, and her smile was always more radiant with him near. Harrison didn't think he'd ever seen his cousin so giddy and girlish.

"Are you ready to cut your cake, princess?" Fitz asked.

"I want to open my presents first."

Fitz shook his head, pulling her to the cake on the coffee table. "So greedy."

Evie lit the cake's candles and everyone gathered around as Olivia sat behind it. Fitz wrapped his arms around his wife, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "So many candles. You're gonna set off the sprinklers old woman."

"I'll never be as old as you," Olivia replied. She smiled as everyone sang "Happy Birthday" then blew out her candles. Everyone clapped as she looked around. "Alright. That's done. Where are my presents?"

She sat on Fitz's lap as everyone took their gifts from the table and brought them to her. Harrison smirked as he offered her a small box. Olivia looked at it then him. "It better not be empty like last year."

"It's not. Open it."

Olivia opened the box and smiled at the gold tube of red lipstick. She wrinkled her nose at her cousin. "Which of your girlfriends bought this?"

Harrison laughed. "You're welcome."

Everyone else had bought her similar trinkets: perfume, French nail polish, brooches, rings and bracelets, designer sunglasses and scarves. Olivia grinned the whole time, feeling like a proper princess. Fitz smiled as he shifted her off his lap. "Alright, it's time for the big guns."

Everyone watched him leave the room and return with a large white box that he set on her lap with a proud smile. She picked it up and rattled it with a smile. Harrison smirked. "What do you wanna bet it's a crown and scepter?"

"Shut up," Olivia replied, taking the top off the box.

Fitz placed his hands atop hers. "Wait, this one's gonna be last."

Howard appeared at her side, holding a stack of smaller boxes. Fitz took them and placed them on top of the large box. The first contained sapphire earrings to match her wedding ring. Olivia squealed, pulling back her freshly-cropped chin-length hair to let Fitz put them on. The next held a white gold bracelet with round diamonds dangling from it like charms. Harrison attempted to take a picture of it but the jewels glared off the flash. The next held a tiara. Harrison snorted. Fitz smirked as he fixed it atop his wife's head.

"How do you like that? I've made you queen," he said, smiling at Olivia.

Olivia laughed. "I always told my mama I'd grow up to be royalty."

"You're my own Marie Antoinette," he replied.

"Then you should take me to France."

"Maybe for Christmas."

The fourth box contained a photo album of their pictures from Turks and Caicos, and snapshots courtesy of Harrison. Olivia squealed as she looked at them. Fitz smiled as he sat beside her. Olivia set the album on his lap. "I want some copies of these to hang up around the house."

"Anything," Fitz replied, adjusting her tiara.

Howard snorted. "She can get anything but I haven't had a day off in thirteen years."

Fitz laughed. "She's prettier than you."

"And probably a lot more willing to kiss you than I am," Howard replied, making everyone laugh.

Olivia got to the big box and Fitz smiled at her. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. What do you buy the girl who has everything?"

Fitz laughed. "I was gonna get you a piano but we don't have the space."

Olivia laughed as she removed the top. Hey eyes widened as she pulled out the shining silver coat. Fitz smiled. "Genuine silver fox all the way from Paris, courtesy of the chief designer of Hermes himself."

"Fitz…"

"Someone call the _Times_. This is the first time I've ever seen her completely speechless," Fitz joked. He pinched her cheek. "Keep looking. There's more."

Olivia removed a layer of white tissue paper and gasped again as she removed a large black handbag. Fitz smiled. "I can't pronounce the name but he designed it for his wife. Supposedly it's _the_ purse for a lady."

Olivia smiled, her eyes glassy. "I think you might be the most amazing husband in the world."

"Oh I am," he replied with a smile, pulling her onto his lap to kiss her.

xxxxx

Fitz lay on his back in bed, Olivia's nails digging into his shoulders as she hovered over him. "Fuck, Liv…"

"Are you close?" she gasped. "I'm so close!"

There was a knock at the door but neither of them stopped their movements, hoping whoever it was when away but the knocking persisted, distracting Olivia from her climax. Her hips sputtered to a stop and Fitz opened his eyes, scowling. "It's four in the fucking morning. Somebody better be dead."

Olivia lifted herself off him and rolled out of bed to find her robe. Fitz found his and turned on the bedside lamp. He couldn't help smiling at Olivia's scowl. "If they're not, I'm going to kill them myself."

He stormed to the door with her hot on his heels. He wrenched open the door and frowned at the woman standing on the other side of it. He was sure he'd never seen her but there was something incredibly familiar about her face. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for my daughter." Fitz stepped back, looking from one woman to the other and the familiarity made sense.

Olivia's blood ran cold at the sound of the woman's voice and her jaw went slack at the sight of her mother. "Mama?"

 **A/N: I know. I know. It's a cliff-hanger. Don't kill me. But believe me when I tell you it's about to go down. Don't forget to review! XOXOXO**


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